


Who You Gonna Call?

by LipstickAndWhiskey (CopperMarigolds)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:33:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7065388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperMarigolds/pseuds/LipstickAndWhiskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam calls Reader in the middle of the night just to hear her voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who You Gonna Call?

**_Bzzt. Bzzt… Bzzt. Bzzt…_ **

Your phone rattled against the nightstand, illuminating the room with soft blue light. Hoping it was just a text, you squeezed your eyes shut and burrowed your face further into the pillow.

**_Bzzt. Bzzt… Bzzt. Bzzt…_ **

No such luck. With a whine, you reached your hand out from the warmth of your bed to figure out who needed what at the ungodly hour of… _3am_ you noticed, squinting against the harsh light of the phone. Rubbing at your eyes, you tried to gain some sort of wakefulness to answer the unknown caller. You hoped it wasn’t Garth asking for another favor that resulted in jail time. That happened _entirely_ too often.

Unlocking your phone, you answered the call. “Ghostbusters. What do you want?” you drawled into the receiver. An amused huff sounded on the other end of the line, and before you could ask again they cleared their throat. “Hey. I hope I didn’t wake you,” Sam murmured, “I can let you go back to sleep if I did.”

Sam, who sounded a little worse for wear, always managed to surprise you with how much he cared. He was always incredibly kind and thoughtful even when others weren’t.

“Sam. You don’t have to do that. I take it’s not urgent if you’re willing to let me go back to sleep, though. What’s up?” you coaxed.

You knew Sam well enough to tell when he wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure whether he should. Trusting that he knew he could count on you, you waited patiently for him to decide. A few long seconds passed before he spoke again.

“I’m not-” he started before huffing, “could you just talk to me for a bit? Tell me about anything, I don’t care. Just talk for a bit?” His tone was quiet, almost pleading. You could tell by the tone of his voice that he was having a rough time. Sam always shouldered too much weight on his shoulders, and it seemed to be catching up to him.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” you mused, wondering if it was as memorable for him as it was for you. Sam chuckled, “Yeah, how could I forget? You shot Dean in the shoulder before hurling a brick at me.” You giggled, remembering the look on his face. “Well it wasn’t my fault that Garth forgot to tell me about you two! How was I supposed to know that the two ginormous guys in the creepy old house weren’t there to murder me?” The two of you erupted into a fit of laughter, before dying down into a comfortable silence.

Knowing it was a longshot, you had to ask anyway. “Hey Sam, where are you and Dean?” The quiet pause made you worried that you’d been impertinent. Before you could worry too much, though, Sam said something muffled. You assumed he was talking to Dean, holding the speaker to his chest. After a bit, Sam cleared his throat. “We’re almost to Montana. We’re on our way up to Rufus’ old cabin. Why?” _That meant they were close. Very close._

Biting the bullet you decided to ask, “Hey why don’t you two stop by my cabin. I know it’s on the way and you two could stop sooner for the night- er _day_.” He went quiet again before asking if you were sure. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’d love to see you two. Plus you sound tired as all hell, and I won’t take no for an answer Winchester.” Sam huffed a startled laugh, answering with a smile in his voice. “Yeah, we should be there in three hours- two if Dean speeds like he normally does when we get closer to a bed.”

You settled farther into bed, talking about anything and everything that came to mind. You did most of the talking while Sam asked a few questions here and there. By the time Sam started telling a few stories of his own, though, you fell asleep to the soft warm timbre of his voice.

* * *

A hand on your shoulder woke you. Instinctively you grabbed for the gun under your pillow, pointing it at the intruder. The warm glow poking through the shades illuminated the tall figure hunched over the bed. His hands were up, showing you he meant no harm. “ _Sweet baby J, Sam._ You scared me!” you griped, setting the safety and placing your Glock on the nightstand and sitting up.

Looking up at him, a soft gasp left your lips. He was beat up pretty bad, like he got thrown around by a demon or the like. Grabbing his hand, you pulled him to sit on the bed as you sat up to get closer. “Sammy,” you whispered as turned his face in your hands, “ _Please_ tell me the other guy looks worse.” He proceeded to tell you all about the hunt they went on, as you inspected his face. You could tell the impact the hunt had on his spirit, whenever he couldn’t save someone.

Quiet settled between the two of you as you opened the first aid kit from your nightstand. You carefully started swabbing at his face as gentle as you dared. He was so close and smelled so good despite the long car ride, that you had to try to make yourself focus on cleaning him up.

You always liked Sam, and you hoped that his proximity wasn’t causing your hands to shake. The two of you were always close. He gave you book recommendations and you always helped out on a case when you could. To be honest, you were always trying to come up with reasons to run into the boys in hopes that you could at least see Sam. He became a sort of normalcy in your weird-ass life.

Gathering up the used steri-pads, you crumpled them into a ball and placed them on the nightstand. Looking back at Sam, he was already peering at you from heavy, sleepy lids. You couldn't help but think about how he looked like an adorable sleepy puppy. "Why don't you catch some sleep? You can take my bed. The only other option is the couch and it's not gonna be nearly as comfy as this bad boy." you suggested, patting the mattress.

"I don't want to take your bed from you," he argued. _Of course he would argue about this._ "Okay, that may have sounded like a suggestion, but it was more of a statement. Sleep in my bed, Sam."

You took a second to realize how that sounded. You were hardly awake, and your pre-coffee brain decided to have a little fun. "A man should feel lucky to sleep in my bed," you mumbled, rubbing at the crust in your eye.

Pausing your hand, your wide eyes slowly raked over to Sam. The room was silent as you looked at each other, afraid to break the silence. Your hand drifted down your face and into your lap, your eyes following suit. _You just couldn't keep your feelings to yourself, could you?_

Sam's hand settled over yours, dwarfing them in comparison. Looking up at him, you saw a small smile accompanied by those sweet dimples you loved. Some of the sleepiness was gone from his face as he gazed at you.

"I would feel very lucky to sleep in your bed," he confessed. His hazel eyes trained on you, as though he were trying to say more with those few words. Hoping, you asked "Would you?" His unwavering gaze made his feelings unmistakeable as he murmured "I would."

Your heart almost leapt out of your chest as he raised his other hand to push your hair behind your ear. He continued on, pushing his fingers through your silken hair and cupping the back of your head. His fingers pressed at you as he dipped his head. Your mind could barely keep up with what was happening, seemingly in slow-motion.

As soon as his lips pressed against yours, all thought fled from your mind. The soft press of his lips was all it took to feel peaceful in this moment. His kiss felt so _right_ , like you weren't searching for something unknown anymore.

He finally pulled away after a final, lingering peck to your lips. Your eyes slid open, the pair of you watching each other for a brief moment. The places where his hands were, burned against your skin, as you were hyperaware of the contact. Sliding one hand out from under his in your lap, you grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged him back to you. You landed a soft, reassuring kiss to his lips before leaning your head against his. You could feel the heat in your cheeks as you just sat there, breathing the same air.

Before long you remembered how tired poor Sam must be. “You should get some sleep now.” you whispered, releasing his shirt and smoothing the wrinkles away. Starting to stand to give him his privacy, his hand caught yours. “Please stay,” he breathed. “I want to tell you a few things.” Looking at him, you knew you couldn't say no. _Especially_ when he was using the puppy dog eyes.

You agreed to stay, his lazy grin making it more than worthwhile. He stripped off his pants and flannel, leaving him in his black boxers and green undershirt. He looked infinitely better in his pajamas than you felt in your old red tank top and plaid sleep shorts.

He settled into your bed, resting against the headboard waiting for you to slide in next to him. Clambering up to the top of the bed, you settled next to him surprised when he wrapped his arm around you. He pulled you in close to his side, urging you to snuggle in closer.

His fingers traced patterns on your arm as you sat together. You considered if you should start the conversation, but thankfully, he took the lead. “You know, there was a point during our hunt that I thought I was going to die,” he murmured. “And I had the usual thoughts about not wanting to leave Dean and Cas. But I realized something else, too.” He turned to look into your eyes, pulling you back a bit so he could see your face. “I wanted to hear your voice,” he admitted. “I couldn’t stand the thought of not hearing your voice one last time. That’s why I called. When the hunt was over, the first thing I did was call you.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. In the face of death, Sam wanted nothing else but to hear your voice. He was unselfish about it, not claiming to want a chance to kiss you or even a hug- all he wanted was to _hear you_. The sincerity in his eyes made your face crumble with emotion, and you flung your arms around him. You buried your face into his neck as you squeezed him tight, fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of his neck. He mumbled reassurances- none of which you quite caught. The rumble of his chest against yours soothed you nonetheless.

Catching your breath, you swallowed against the lump of emotion in your throat. “Sam,” you gasped “you have always had a piece of my heart.” You could feel his breath catch as his arms around you tightened. “The moment I met you, you had all of mine,” he replied. “It got so bad that I started bugging Dean to take cases that I knew would be close to where you were.”

A bark of laughter left you before you explained that you kept doing the same just to get to see him. “What a pair we are, huh?” you mused aloud. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We are.”

* * *

Later that day, Dean awoke disoriented from the heavy sleep he had. He padded down the creaky hallway to check if you were awake already. Pushing at your cracked door, he paused at the sight of you and Sam snuggled up sound asleep. Grinning to himself, he closed the door happy that Sam finally told you how he felt. And if he was happy that he didn’t have to get dragged all over the country to be close to her, he would never tell.

**Author's Note:**

> Sammy just needs a little love and someone who can help him carry all the weight that he shoulders. I just really used this as a way to vent my Sam feels. He deserves all the hugs and forehead kisses.
> 
> You can find me over on tumblr at [lipstickandwhiskey.tumblr.com](https://lipstickandwhiskey.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
